Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Love is the joy of the good...
Labels:
chocolate,
erotic,
good,
greeting cards,
joy,
love,
pearls,
people in trees,
Plato,
quote
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Women at the Beginning of All Great Things
Labels:
Alphonse de Lamartine,
beginning,
birth,
chocolate,
great,
greeting cards,
mama,
maternity,
pearls,
quote,
woman
Friday, July 5, 2013
Quote of the Day: Life is the Flower
Labels:
bees,
beeswax,
chocolate,
day,
flower,
greeting cards,
honey,
life,
love,
pearls,
quote,
swarm,
Victor Hugo
Monday, July 1, 2013
The Picture of John Stamos
John Stamos is hiding something. He has to be.
I don’t understand how this man has had such a long and varied 30-year
career with no blemishes. Yeah, there’s
a divorce on his book and a drunken Australian interview, but that’s
practically sainthood in terms of Hollywood.
He’s a television actor, he’s performed on Broadway, he’s an
accomplished musician who has worked often with the Beach Boys, his musings
have been published in the Huffington Post, and he’s gorgeous.
Seriously, you can hate all you want, but Helen Keller can
see how gorgeous Stamos is, and she’s
blind. And dead. What kills me about him is that it’s not
only that he’s good looking- it’s that he’s gotten better looking with
age. This cat is so much sexier,
sleeker, and more chiseled if you will (I will) at 50 than he could have dreamt
of being at 20. If he’s had work done,
then he needs to do all of our eyes a favor and post his surgeon’s name in the
back pages of Skank magazine, the grown folks’ section of Craigslist, or
wherever his contemporaries will see it when they are shopping for
tranny-hookers when their wives are out of town. I am so tired of seeing these plastic, reptilian
looking men who front like the stretched, collapsible, Dalian faces they
currently bear are examples of the natural, non-surgical aging process . “Bitch, I remember you in Rocky. You looked more human after being pummeled in
the face then than you do now.” “Honey,
I saw when your ass looked like a mammal in 9 ½ Weeks”, so on, etc. John Stamos has a face that has the wear and
tear of 50 year old man who has loved and laughed and lived. And I, for one, am so happy to see it.
On top of him looking like your college roommate’s father
who was your go-to fantasy on those special nights when you were your own
friend with benefits, you never hear anything bad about him. Co-workers praise him. The ladies love him, girls adore him, I mean,
even the ones who never saw him… Sorry.
I digressed into the words of Rob Base, but seriously, this man CAN’T be
this good, right? Maybe he was an
incredibly selfless and kind, talent-free, Quasimodo in his last life and this
is his karmic reward. I don’t know, but
I hesitate to run on about how fabulous he comes across because it seems like
as soon as I hit “publish” there’s gonna be breaking news about a riot of
drugged up runaways found in his basement in deluxe puppy cages, attached to
punishing benches, or locked to cock and ball pillories. That or his housekeeping
team will find drying human skin in the eaves of his attic. Better still, the
latest issue of Weekly World News will have a genuine replica of his
Faustian Bargain, which was originally signed in blood, and its sinister
details will be listed inside the rag next to the latest info on the Bat
Boy. He comes off as being so good that
there’s gotta be something dark and twisted that he has enough money to hide
from the world, right?
Or, dare I say and believe, is he really just a dude who is
following his passion so fully, that there is no need for the darkness to
welcome him as an old friend? I am so
jaded and judgmental, but I would really like to think it’s the latter,
wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t it be nice for a
dude in Hollywood who has endured and come through seemingly unscathed, for
once, to end up really being a nice
shorty pop who doesn’t have a penchant for beating people, or abusing them when he’s nine kinds of hopped
up on blow and Adderall? That’s kind of
like believing in Santa Claus, unicorns, and that the fat, ugly girl who is the
most talented is going to get the romantic lead in a film.
But you know what? I choose to accept that about John Stamos
. I mean the man went against his own
publicity machine when he was hammered during that 2007 interview in Australia
and flat out threw the cup of their kool-aide (jetlagged, stomach flu, lie,
lie, lie) against the wall and said, “I was f*cking drunk!” Standing slow clap for John. Until I hear otherwise, I am going to believe
that John Stamos is not hiding anything.
That John Stamos, who I thought would disappear from the small screen,
every teenage-girl’s masturbatory fantasy, and the viewing audience’s
collective memory after his role ended as Blackie Parrish on General
Hospital, is the exact number of licks it takes to get to the center of a
Tootsie Pop. That he is pink hearts,
yellow moons, blue diamonds. That John
Stamos is not just bacon bits or bacon flavoring- but that John Stamos is
bacon.
Labels:
actor,
bacon,
Beach Boys,
Blackie Parrish,
Dorian Gray,
drunk,
Faustian Bargain,
John Stamos,
Quasimodo,
Rob Base,
Weekly World News
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